


DEATH

by PKA



Series: Major Arcana [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (duh), But also, Cannibalism, Death, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: 4 x 400-word fics set on Cuba.





	1. Will kills without Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feverdreambloodopera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverdreambloodopera/gifts), [heyndrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyndrix/gifts), [hominixlupus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hominixlupus), [Akkisuitok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akkisuitok/gifts).



> For my 400 Follower Giveaway on tumblr, I asked my followers to give me prompts consisting of four words from which I then picked my four favorites. This is the result!  
> Thanks to my dear beta [ fragile-teacup ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/) for taking the time to look at these little stories!

Will disliked Cuba.

It was, no doubt, the perfect place for them to rest before moving on. Like Cuba, they were frozen in time, isolated from the world. Wanting to profit from tourists, Havana had spiraled in on itself, staying exactly the same - an eternal Groundhog Day. Tourists came, eager to delight in the colorful dereliction of the city, satisfied to hear Buena Vista Social Club songs on every street corner.

It was tiresome and worse now, so close to Christmas. 

Will strolled alone along the Playa Santa Maria del Mar, eyes pinned to the crystal clear water when he heard the scream.

A small, blonde woman, European, about forty. No ring on her finger, no companion to shield her. A group of men surrounded her, _jineteros_ , trying to earn some easy money. Or at least that had been their original intention.

One of them had a knife in hand; the others were shouting at him in frenzied Spanish. Usually, selling fake Cohibas or overpriced mojitos was sufficient for survival. Perhaps this one had realized that robbery would be more profitable.

His friends backed off, seeing the madness of greed in his eyes. 

He had the woman by the waist, knife pressed against her throat, his deep voice lacking all friendliness. The knife pierced the woman’s throat and a trickle of blood seeped from the fresh wound.

Will stopped thinking. He ran, jumped the man from behind and they tumbled to the ground together. The knife was a glint in the air; where it landed, no one could have said. The two men wrestled for dominance, strength seemingly equal, until Will found the upper hand, sitting securely on the _jinetero_ , fists connecting with flesh over and over again. Several seconds, perhaps a minute, passed in a blink. Will heard screams; he felt someone trying to pull him away, but he was in trance. The man he was pounding slowly but surely ceased fighting back, and the head which Will was still raining blows on was transformed into a Cubist piece of blood and flesh.

When finally he stopped, the shouting had ceased. Will was alone with the European woman, the _jineteros_ having fled. At first, Will didn’t understand the woman’s piercing cries, for he was still entombed in a grave of dark euphoria. When it clicked, a sweat settled on his spine despite the Cuban heat: he had killed again.


	2. Will eats Hannibal’s Liver

“ _Higgado Encebollado_ \- liver with onions.”

Will looked down at his plate. Two slices of liver were draped with onion and bell pepper stripes. Surrounding them was an artful display of vegetables, rice and decorative flowers. It looked good. And it smelled even better.

“This isn’t your liver.”

Hannibal smiled at him. “Humor me.”

“What part of me would you eat?” Hannibal had asked a few days ago, while they were both sitting at the Plaza Catedral, drinking daiquiris. Will barely drank anything non-alcoholic anymore: one couldn’t bear Cuba otherwise.

He hadn’t given himself time to think before answering. “Liver,” he had said.

“You would take the inceptor of my metabolism. All that I eat is processed there.”

“I wonder what it would taste like,” Will had said. “With all the things you’ve eaten.”

Hannibal had looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes, amused and fond, and Will had thought he had asked the question only for his own entertainment.

The purpose had been something different, he found, watching the display before him now.

He could never be sure where the meat originated from and they never talked about it. Sometimes Hannibal went out on his own, and sometimes Will did the same, each pursuing things they felt not ready to share with the other. This was a foray, a test.

Hannibal took his seat and they began eating. Will found himself closely watched while chewing, found Hannibal’s eyes track the movement of his throat when he swallowed.

“How do you feel, imagining it is me you are eating?” Hannibal asked.

Will took another bite, chewed thoughtfully. The liver itself was very tender and tasted mild, accompanying vegetables of more intense flavor. He swallowed.

“I thought I would feel powerful, or just, but it’s not that.”

Hannibal inclined his head, betraying his curiosity.

“I feel... melancholic. Like no matter how delicious the dish, it won’t be able to channel what I feel into something more elevated. In this case, the consummation is not enough.”

Hannibal beamed. It was so easy to satisfy him.

Will looked at him gravely. “Tell me who I’m eating.”

“”A tourist I encountered in the _Biblioteca Nacional José Martí_. She did not understand the concept of a place of learning and the silence one needs for it. Does it change the way you feel?”

“No,” Will said, taking another bite. “I’m eating you, after all.”


	3. Dig up her bones

Used to the sight of the _Saint Louis Cemetery_ in his youth, Will considered the _Cementerio Cristóbal Colón_ nothing special.

With its sheer size, strict symmetry and lack of shade-giving trees to make the temperatures more bearable, Will wanted to leave the place as fast as he could. They were passing through one of the more ornate areas, white marble angel statues lining their way.

“More than 40 burials are performed here everyday”, Hannibal said. “The cemetery has long since reached the end of its capacity, so the dead are disinterred after three years to make room for the newly deceased.”

Will wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What do you want to happen with your body after you die?”

“Assuming that I have a choice in the matter?”

It was too easy to imagine what would happen with Hannibal if the FBI ever found them.

“Yes.”

Hannibal deliberated. They walked past a family vault guarded by a large statue of Jesus Christ. Will looked up into his sorrowful gaze.

“What happens to my mortal remains when I pass on from this life does not concern me. All that I wish for is that my spirit remains alive in the memory of my beloved.”

“So you wouldn’t care if I ate you?”

Hannibal smiled. “I am sure that when the time comes, dear Will, you will find something that suits your own design more.”

Slowly, they passed into a poorer area of the cemetery. Statues made way for plain tombs, until all they could see were flat white tombstones. Even now there were burials in progress, and just a few tombs further along the way a disinterment was taking place. Hannibal stopped not far from there.

“Here it is.”

Another plain grave slab, this one with a name Will knew. Haydee González.

“How does it feel, standing before her again?” Hannibal asked. “Knowing that she, too, will be exhumed tomorrow?”

Almost twelve months after the Dragon, Haydee had been their first kill, the prelude of three revelatory years. Will couldn’t quite believe it. How many tombs were here because of them, he wondered?

His design had evolved. Back then, they had not been able to preserve any part of the Dragon. A shame. He wanted to preserve the feeling of delightful power this time.

Smiling, he took hold of Hannibal’s hand and turned to speak to him.

“Dig up her bones.”


	4. Winter Cuddles Long Kiss

Two snow-white gardenias were artfully woven through the gift ribbon. The present itself, beautifully wrapped in dark violet, expensive-looking paper, paled in comparison. 

“Not exactly subtle,” Will said.

Hannibal smiled. “Subtlety was not my greatest concern.”

Winter in Cuba was not much of a winter. The temperature had dropped, but at 78 °F it was still warmer than every summer in Wolf Trap Will could remember. It didn’t exactly help to get Will into a Christmassy mood. In fact, he had entirely forgotten about it. 

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Your presence will suffice, Will.”

It was their first Christmas, nine months after the Fall. There had been plenty of opportunities to leave Hannibal, or to call Jack. And yet Will was still here, the FBI still on a wild goose chase.

He reached out to touch one of the petals. The texture was silky under his fingertips. For a moment he considered forcing Hannibal into the conversation they had avoided for the past few months. Then he thought better of it.

“Thank you,” he said, and before Hannibal could answer, he had crossed over to him, embracing him.

It felt awkward only for the shortest moment. Then, just as it had been back at the bluff, electricity crackled between them wherever their bodies touched. Points of contact became sparks about to ignite a fire.

Will had never liked that comparison. Most of the time, being close to someone had felt wrong, unpleasant. And even when he had wanted to be close, when he had loved someone even, that love had expressed itself in another form of passion - sluggish and relaxed, an enjoyment without hurry. Exploration surmounting the simple fulfillment of needs.

With Hannibal, it couldn't be like that.

Their lips found each other’s almost automatically. Will could hear the crack when they came together, short circuit imminent. There was no shyness there, just eagerness and lust, fired by months and months of tension. Yet it managed to be tender also, short bursts of current evened out by endless seconds of disbelief and euphoria. Lips, soft as gardenia petals, brushing across his mouth, over and over.

When they parted at last, Hannibal’s cheeks were reddened, his lips the color of blood. Will liked that look on him.

“Don’t you want to unwrap your present?” Hannibal asked, voice rough.

Will’s hands found their way beneath Hannibal’s suit jacket. “I’m about to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on my [tumblr](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
